Rockin' around the universe
by Dancingdog
Summary: Short stories based on different songs involving a variety of characters (lyrics not written so you may have to look the song up on youtube to understand the references). I do not own the characters or songs but if you would like me to write for a particular song, just comment. Chapter 2: You don't love me anymore - Weird Al
1. Thriller

_Thriller - Michael Jackson_

McCoy was frightened. No, scratch that; he was terrified. He was trapped in a cold, dark, damp cave in the middle of a cliff face, alone and with no chance of communication to the _Enterprise_ due to his communicator being short-circuited at the bottom of a 40 ft deep, murky-black, icy river at the base of the cliff.

Spock, Kirk and himself had been trying to scale the rock face in the pitch black (as it was the equivalent of midnight, local time) in an attempt to escape the vicious creatures below. Unfortunately, due to the nearly non-existent visibility, the three officers had been separated and upon this discovery, in a blind moment of panic, the good Doctor had dropped his communicator into the unforgiving depths below.

Now he was utterly alone and afraid and clinging to the rocks at the back of the cave for dear life.

Originally, in the evening hours of dusk, at ground level, he and Spock had been taking some readings of the flora situated on the unusually blood-red planet's surface (as well as arguing, much to the amusement of Kirk) when a ferocious growl had sounded behind them and a blur of yellow had rammed into them both, shouting 'move!' in a commanding yet panic-stricken tone. Upon realising that their captain, and friend, had just given them an order, both had swiftly jumped into action.

McCoy had glanced behind him to take a proper look at was pursuing them. The creature was tall, or would have been if it had reared up onto its hind legs. Each of the six legs had 5-inch talons protruding from the human-like hands (it didn't have feet as such, thy were shaped more like elongated human hands). The body was covered in fur, or bristles (as it was hard to tell which) and attached to the long, thin neck there was a head which resembled that of a disfigured wolf's. Out of the snarling muzzle lay two sharp, curving fangs, gleaming a sickly yellow in the dusky light. The creature reeked of decaying matter (most probably from it's recent meal, or from it's first; the smell was strong enough) and dark red, thick blood trickled down the thing's sides as it galloped at awesome speeds through the searing darkness.

McCoy's eyes had widened in horror as the creature's soulless, black pits of eyes had bored directly into him: all forty of them.

The doctor slid miserably down the cave wall and huddled in on himself, all the while wondering if his friends had escaped the beast's clutches.

Suddenly, there was the sound of rocks falling from the outside of the cave and a shadowy hand with long fingers slowly grasped at the base of the cave, the figure being outlined sinisterly in the glowing light of both moons. A grunt was heard as the hand clawed for purchase at the crumbling rocks and McCoy quietly whimpered as a second hand joined it, then a third and a fourth. The doctor finally found the courage he needed to silently pick up a medium-sized rock beside him and aim it for when the alien raised its ugly head.

Only, it wasn't the alien he had been expecting.

A familiar hairline gradually raised itself from the inky blackness outside as two rich, chocolate eyes scanned the premises warily. Pointed ears listened intently for any movement and, upon apparently not hearing McCoy's erratic heartbeat and shallow breathing, Spock deemed it safe for the captain and himself to find sanctuary in the gloomy cave.

Both officers clambered up to safety and McCoy released a sigh of relief.

The vulcan aimed his phaser directly at McCoy's head.

"Wait Spock, don't shoot!" Pleaded a Southern accent.

"Bones!" Yelped Kirk and promptly ran into the shadows at the back of the cave, Spock jogging easily after him.

McCoy produced a small amount of self-combusting compound from the basic medical kit attached to his hip at all times, and smashed it upon a large rock a few metres away now that he was certain that he was in the company of his friends rather than a savage alien that wanted to painfully maul him apart. He barely had time to turn away from the flame when a pair of arms wrapped joyfully around his waist and a head pressed into his chest. The doctor glanced down into the blondish hair of his purring captain. When he looked back up, he saw a vulcan staring amusedly at them both with a raised eyebrow approximately 3 feet away.

A shivering vulcan.

A wicked grin crossed McCoy's face as he realised that the damp, cold cave must be doubly so for Spock, and being a physician, it was his highest priority to ensure all his patients were healthy.

A startled shout left the first officer as a hand clasped his arm and hauled him in for a sandwiched hug between his captain and doctor. The protest forming against the action soon died on his lips when he realised that the hug was warm.

McCoy and Kirk smirked slyly at each other in the flickering orange glow of the flame as they felt the vulcan relax comfortably between them.

No one noticed as a blood-soaked figure with long, sharp talons edged towards the rear of the cave...


	2. You don't love me anymore

_You don't love me anymore - Weird Al Yankovic_

The best way to describe their relationship was love/hate. They were constantly at each other's throats (to the amusement of most of the crew) yet as soon as one was in danger, the other was instantly by his side, no matter the cost. They had been through more arguments than he could count, some coming to blows (even if they weren't quite in their right minds the few times that this had happened) and still, they never held against each other. It was the most peculiar relationship he had ever encountered.

Kirk grinned to himself as he watched his two officers' most recent debate (shouting match) escalate in sickbay. The argument had started with Spock insisting that he was not ill and that he didn't need the doctor's _'dubious medical qualifications'_ to tell him so. This had, in turn, prompted McCoy to metaphorically drag the vulcan by his pointed ears, kicking and screaming, to sickbay.

In actual fact, McCoy _had_ dragged the vulcan by his ear (albeit gently) and Spock, instead of kicking and screaming, had frowned murderously and pouted (in a way that only an 'unemotional' vulcan could) all the way to the medical bay.

McCoy had practically thrown the taller man onto a bio-bed (with determined strength) and quickly treated the deadly virus, which was destroying vital cells in Spock's body and rapidly creeping up to the vulcan's superior brain to permanently destroy those cells in order to turn the man into a vegetable.

The virus had accumulated within the past hour and a half on the parasite infested planet below and if left untreated for another thirty minutes, would have rendered the half-vulcan brain-dead. An additional fifteen and Spock's organ would have been so horrifically destroyed that he would have died from internal haemorrhaging and most likely would have been 'eaten' by the living virus (as it was compromised of respiring organisms) from the inside, outwards.

McCoy expertly removed the virus he already knew to be there the minute Spock's back hit the bed and at the moment, was looking rather smug.

"What was it you were sayin', mister Spock?" The doctor asked cheekily.

The vulcan, whom had only been on the bed for a grand total of 223.7 seconds and was still disbelieving of the strength the doctor possessed when he wanted to, blinked owlishly.

Kirk stifled his laughter behind a hand.

McCoy grinned evilly. "What's this? Your superior vulcan brain not have the capacity to realise you'd been _infested_?"

Spock recovered instantly. "Actually doctor, I do believe that it was my 'vulcan brain', amongst other vulcan physiology, which allowed me to survive for the length of time I did. After all, I doubt that a human would have lasted for quite as long."

McCoy snorted dismissively. "And yet moments ago, you refused to believe somethin' was wrong with you."

"On the contrary doctor, I thought that you might damage my anatomy more than the virus could have considering your limited knowledge on both the organisms and vulcan biology."

McCoy's face dropped and his cheeks started to flash in obvious anger.

"_Limited knowledge?!_ Not only have I performed extensive and _exhaustive _research on that thing for the past couple hours since we first discovered it on one of the ensigns, but I've also had you down here more than a few times, which has given me ample time to learn 'bout hobgoblin biology, whether I wanted to or not!"

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Two hours is hardly enough time for 'extensive research'."

"Hardly a-? Now listen here you space elf! My research just saved your life! The least you could do is admit that you were wrong!" McCoy seethed.

Spock frowned confusedly. "That is highly illogical doctor, as you have admitted in the past that you knew very little about vulcan physiology and that you wished to learn more. Why would I state that I was wrong when I was in fact telling the truth?"

McCoy growled lowly, his accent becoming more prominent as his frustration grew, "You know very well that I've saved your rear more times than I care to count. If it's your own pride that's stoppin' you from admittin' that, then that's your own problem. I _did_ say that I wanted to learn more 'bout vulcans, but I went out and researched your blasted anatomy to find out what I wanted to know, so don't you dare give me any of your irritatin' logic, you walkin' computer!"

The CMO was pleased to see the object of his ire was wearing thin in terms of patience.

"As I recall _doctor_, you 'saving my life' consisted of your various home-brewed remedies, rattles and beads. I am rather surprised that you haven't taken to drilling holes in your patients' heads."

Said doctor spluttered indignantly as an all-but-forgotten Kirk shoved his fist in his mouth to silence his hysterics.

"And I'm surprised that you haven't used your mind voodoo to render me unconscious to dump me in some drainage ditch and leave me for dead! In fact, I'm convinced that you've poisoned my coffee on more than one occasion!"

By this time, Kirk had fallen off his former perch on a bed and was rolling on the floor and clutching his stomach in silent laughter at the mental images.

Upon hearing the _thud, _two identical glares were thrown his way, making Kirk's silent chuckles complete with sound.

"What's so darn funny?" Hissed McCoy.

The young captain stole one more glance at his subordinates' scowls before losing control once again. When he finally got a hold of himself, accompanied by six lung-busting breaths, he stared seriously at his two friends; calm authority accentuating his commanding presence.

Or at least, he tried to.

Grin still in place, Kirk giggled (high pitched manly laughter) at the next image to pop into his already warped mind.

"C'mon, spit it out!" Grouched a Southern accent.

"You sound like a married couple," snickered Kirk.

If looks could kill, Jim would have been asphyxiated twice, stamped on by a Centaurian swamp hog (which had 13-inch fangs and weighed over four tonnes) and thrown out of the airlock after being compressed and set on fire in the waste compactor.

Fortunately for Kirk, in order to avoid a murder investigation, his two friends turned on their heels (in synchronisation) and stalked out of sickbay without a word.

The captain, who was disappointed by the lack of response, shouted to his friends' retreating backs, "What, don't you love me anymore?"


End file.
